A Victim's Account
by HesMyHoleySaint
Summary: Voldemort's regime harmed many innocent people. These are a few diary entries from the young Lark Bennett; one of the many affected by the war.
1. Ministry Information

**PROPERTY OF THE MINISTRY OF MAGIC**

**Log of those missing/deceased/ "kissed" during the 2****nd**** Wizarding War (1995-1998)**

**THIS INFORMATION IS PRIVATE **

**Information disclosed below is for the Ministry and the families related to individuals mentioned. Information is used for the tracking of these missing/deceased/ "kissed" individuals in the case that family members are looking for them/their body. Also allows for the Ministry to keep tabs on the exact casualties of the war. **

**YOU MUST HAVE PERMISSION TO ACCESS THESE FILES**

**Name:** Lark Bennett

**Gender: **Female

**Age: **b. March 12th, 1979

**Blood Status:** Muggle Born (Both parents were of same status. Under MBRC, their offspring is considered Muggle Born)

**Family:** Braelyn Bennett (Mother: Muggle Born)

Russell Richardson (Father: Muggle Born)

Jude Bennett (Step Father: Pureblood) **NOTE:** After Mr. Richardson's death, the family took on Mr. Bennett's last name (and used his blood status)

Naomi Bennett (Half-Sister: Half Blood) **NOTE:** Ms. Bennett is the first daughter of Braelyn and Jude. 9 years are between Lark and Naomi

**Education:** Never completed 7th year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry due to medical issues

**Other: **

Diagnosed with schizophrenia in April of 1997

Diary was found outside the Muggle Born Registration Commission court room at the end of the 2nd War

Found "guilty" by Dolores J. Umbridge and sent to Azkaban Fortress on March 20th, 1998

Received the Dementor's kiss two weeks later. Exact reason (besides blood status) unkown

Mrs. Bennett (Mother) received the same, months prior


	2. Entry 1

14 April, 1997

I'm writing this because I feel I have no one to turn to. My life feels like it's falling apart. My mind feels like it's becoming unhinged and I can't stand it. I've been feeling like this for a while but, with the death of Lydi it's even worse. That dog was the best friend I had! Nothing feels the same. I can't enjoy the things I used to. I don't want to play Wizard's Chess anymore and I can't sit through a play. I'm scared. Not only because of the general fear that we've entered a second war; not only because people are disappearing left and right. Not only because _he's _back when people thought he was dead. It's also because there are so many thoughts going on in my head. The thoughts are so loud, they're like voices. Voices that have opinions about everything I do; voices that are giving me a commentary of my life. My studies here at Hogwarts are becoming harder and harder because I can't focus. When I sit down to study for the upcoming N.E.W.T.s there are conversations going on around me, and I don't think they're between the other students here in the common room. No matter how hard I try to block them out and no matter how many times I tell them to go away they won't leave. When I turn around to yell at them no one is talking, but the taunting voice is still stuck in my head. What's wrong with me? It gets worse and worse every day. I can't ask Mother for help, she's already too worried with everything else going on. I think it has to do with the fact that she's a muggle-born. I will not write to Jude. I don't care how many times Mother wants me to call him "Father", he's not my father! Yes, I do call him my father outside of the house, but I've never called him that when it's just our family. Jude is a pureblood man my mother married when I was 7. Jude is not like Father. Father was a muggle-born like my mother, who fought bravely and died in the 1st Wizarding War. I miss him terribly and Jude is nice, sure, but he is no replacement for the real thing. There's only one other person left and that's Naomi. I could never go to her because she's just my little sister. I love her, but I doubt an 8 year old would be able to give me very good advice. I'll figure out something… I hope. Now, I have to go to Muggle Studies. My mother makes me take Muggle Studies, regardless of the fact that I know much about the muggle world. I don't mind going, it's interesting and fun. Although, one thing I hate is that everyone in the class thinks I know as little as they do about muggles. You see, mum has always told people that Jude is my real father; as far as everyone else knows, I'm a half-blood. I hope to write more, but it is quite hard to write even these few pages. I like it though; it helps me organize my thoughts. I do hope my mind is back to normal next time I write. I can't stand this constant paranoia much longer. I pray these voices, whoever they are, will leave me alone.

Lark


	3. Entry 2

26 May, 1997

The voices are getting worse; they're getting louder. They've started yelling at me. They have to say everything I'm doing; everything I'm feeling. I don't want those things said out loud. I haven't been able to write because it's been too noisy. It's hard to concentrate on anything. I was forced to drop out of Hogwarts a week after my last entry. I've started seeing things as well. Reality isn't the same. Sometimes I can't tell the difference between real life and these strange dreams. I arrived home and Mother keeps saying I'm acting rather odd and the truth is, I feel quite odd. She saw me crying in my room, pulling at my hair and talking to myself. I can't help it! I feel I'm going crazy… and as it turns out I am. Mother took me to St. Mungo's. They did tests and asked me questions I didn't want to answer. I feel like a little kid, not being able to do things for myself. The healers just told me what I already knew; I am insane. My insanity goes by the name of Schizophrenia. The voices I hear are a "common symptom". Common… ha. As if hearing voices can even be called common, regardless of one's mental state. Why me? The healers told Mum I have to stay in the hospital till I am back to normal- if that's even possible. So, I am now writing from my new room in St. Mungo's mental ward. I already hate it here. Everyone treats me like I'm a helpless puppy. They all talk to me like I'm a child. No, I don't need your opinion on the subject! This is entirely your fault! If you would just leave me alone I wouldn't be here! Alright be quiet, they're coming back. I have to act like you don't exist so I can go home.

Lark


	4. Entry 3

29 November, 1997

I thought my stay here was going to make me better, but it's made me even madder. It's because I'm alone… so alone… Mother visits me sometimes… Jude and Naomi too, but really, the only ones I have to talk to are the voices; so I do. The healers should just let me go. Who knows? I might get better. Even if I don't recover at least I'll be with my family. And for goodness sake, they're wizards! Why out of all the illnesses I could have, I have the one that magic can't cure. Although, one good thing is I've made a new friend, her name is Esther. She stays in the room across from mine and I see her when I'm allowed to leave my room. She suffers from the same malady. It's comforting to know I'm not the only one out there. Even when we don't really talk I enjoy her company- we both have a sense of what the other is feeling. While talking to her I found out that she's a muggle-born, although I didn't tell her I technically was one too. I told her that I always wanted to learn more about the muggle world, so she's been "teaching" me. She tells me of the non-magical world, little by little because we only get to see each other for snippets at a time. Sometimes, even her husband comes in during our "lessons" and just listens to her. It seems like he learns more than me! Hearing her stories makes me think of my father and mother. I love that feeling… I picture my real parents doing things together…doing things with me. Lately, the healers have been whispering more than usual. Often they just whisper about us, but this time they seem worried. I never quite hear what they're saying, but I know that it's about You-Know-Who and his followers and the disappearances. I may be seen as crazy, but I can tell that things are getting worse. We really have a war on our hands. I don't get to hear a lot of specific news, but I hear enough to get the scope of what's going on. I just hope my family and everyone else is safe. Oh, do you hear that? …Of course you don't. It sounds like the opening lines to my favourite play, "Hélas, Je me suis Transfiguré Les Pieds". It's very comforting… You know, it was the first play I ever saw. Listen to the funny, principal actor and the sweet voice of the leading lady… 


	5. Entry 4

19 March, 1998

Let me out! Please… It's been almost a year! The healers have said I've improved and have told me I'd be going home soon. Even if it's just for a little bit, it's better than nothing. I just want to see my mother and Naomi and… well… those hopes were crushed. I hear the Ministry got a hold of Mum. They took her because she's a muggle-born. Now no one visits me, not even Jude. I guess he considers it too dangerous for him and his little half-blood Naomi to associate with scum like me. I'm sure that it was he who sold me out, for after I getting my hopes up, I'm now being called to questioning at the Ministry. They said I would've been called in sooner, but now I'm "mentally stable enough" to go through with the ridiculous hearing. I'm sure I'll be punished for saying I'm a half-blood, but it doesn't matter what they do to me; it has to be better than here. Regardless, I don't want to go to a dark court room! I want to go home! I barely hear the voices anymore and the hallucinations have basically stopped. I'm better, I swear, but the healers don't care what I wish. I'm inferior to them. I'm seen as no better than a useless flobberworm! When they talk about my trip to the Ministry I can tell some of them really do feel bad. Some of the healers get this look in their eyes… Today, I'm being moved from a place of cold white, to a place of cold darkness. Oh, just let me swim in the Black Lake once or let me feel the sun warm my skin. I need that sun, for my life has been cold for this long year. I almost envy Esther. She was taken away what feels like forever ago and got to leave this dreadful place… Not that she went to a place that's much better, but at least it's something! The Ministry officials who came to escort her seem rather rough and I have a bad feeling they'll be that way with me.

There are men in the hall; Ministry Officials... _my _Ministry Officials. And there's that dreaded knock at my door. Merlin, I'm desperate to leave, but not like this


	6. Entry 5

I just got here and I already feel worse than I have all year. What kind of place can fill one with such dread? This small, dark, ice cold room is filled with others and if I look like any of them, then I have the appearance of a ghost. They're all so pale and… just… emotionless. Of course, no one cares. We're considered to be beasts, rather than beings. There is much screaming and shouting from fellow witches and wizards, begging for someone to believe them. The officials, snatchers, whatever you like to call them, don't care how many wait in here. It just gives the dreadful dementors more to feed off of. They give the place a smell of… well quite frankly, it smells of death. The room feels as if poor souls who have been here before us are still hanging over. Their cries still echoing… This could be my crazy mind imagining these things, but I can see that the others feel it too. I'm sure they're feeling helpless because they have been stripped of their wands. I am allowed this quill and paper, but my wand was never given back to me. It was simply exchanged from the healers to the officials. Men, women and children… they all look terrified, but I don't feel anything. I know I should be scared, but I just can't feel a thing anymore. I just want to go home. I'll never do things I dreamed of because I don't think I'll ever get to go home. All the feelings I once had aren't present; I've been desensitized. I thought I had recovered, but this experience has seemed to bring things back. It's not the same as last time. I hear something different. I hear… a dog's bark. Oh, that's Lydi's bark! I'm sure of it! That sweet, lovable dog. I hear a new voice… it's very soothing and I know why. It's the voice of Father… and Mother! I feel so close to them, like I could reach out and stroke Lydi's fur or grab my parent's hands. Goodness, the officials are back to call their next victim… My turn has come to walk down the endless hallway. Well, hopefully it will be warmer in there. Yes, that would be nice. I guess there is a little something to look forward to in every bad situation, even if it is just a warm room. I must now do what they say. What's that, Father? Oh yes, I would love to see you again.

Lark


End file.
